The Wanderer

Theoretically, yesterday morning should have gone fairly smoothly. All I had to do was get up at 7AM, have breakfast, get my stuff together, and ensure I was ready to leave at about 7.50AM to be picked up by George’s Mum and taken to the station at Alton. Instead, I woke up, saw the alarm clock was saying 7.49AM and had singularly failed to go off, and then spent the next five minutes sprinting around like a madman. Thankfully, George made me some sandwiches for the train, which I was exceedingly grateful for, but the whole thing was rather intense- underlined by the fact that I was actually going to be away for nearly three days.

Last night was my first stay on the sofa back at the flat. It would have been a little easier if I hadn’t forgotten my iPod (meaning I couldn’t continue the unabridged audiobook of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell I’ve been listening to), but it actually went pretty smoothly. I had already seen A PRARIE HOME COMPANION earlier that night- a strange, enjoyable yet melancholy film- and had stayed out long enough so that I was nice and tired. Being back there was like being in an alien environment, and really brought home exactly how much personality George and I tend to imprint on a place. The sofa was comfortable, though, and I awoke refreshed at 6.55 this morning, and was out of the house by 7.30. I’m aiming for a repeat tomorrow, as I need to check my PO Box before I head back to Hampshire- and then after that, it’s time for a week in Wales, and hopefully a minimum of stress.

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